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Chen Lee Water Suspension
You’d be surprised how many pirate ships can fit into a magical underground harbor. It was laughable how much Miles’ ship looked like a toy boat compared to the mechanical wonders surrounding it. The huge slats of wood on either side and bottom of his ship didn’t help the notion. It was considered “old-fashioned” to still have a wooden hull—not to mention dangerous if there wasn’t an ample amount of protection behind it. Apparently Miles happened to be an old-fashioned type of guy.
The wood was old, but had a bright sheen to it as if Miles had gone over it was some sort of gloss. One could only hope it was for protection and not decoration. It had a pointed nose and a narrow rudder, the sides bulging and creaking as it teetered in place. Large metallic fins stuck out from either side with a single larger fin protruding from the deck, and all three were pulled tight against the ship, resulting in the ship looking even smaller.
To be honest, it looked kind of like a giant fish.
As if its size and shape weren’t enough to make it stand out, two cannon noses poked out near the front like a pair of empty eyes while something akin to a huge sniper barrel rested on the deck.
Miles motioned to an old rope ladder clanking along the side. He flashed a mischievous smile to Olyvia, who was clearly uncomfortable with the whole affair and rethinking her deal.
“Ladies first,” he said.
The air inside the ship was stuffy and a bit stale. Apparently Miles hadn’t installed windows in his toy boat, or at the very least hadn’t opened them lately. It made one wonder why there were vents every few feet if he wasn’t using them to pump fresh air into the hallways.
A tinny echo bounced off the wooden walls, the metal lining the walkways making our steps sound ominous and deceiving in number. There were only four of us, but it sounded more like fourteen. Pipes ran along the edges and up into the walls and ceiling like veins, the only break in the metallic arteries coming from the mysterious vents in the ceiling. Every intersection had an old metal panel with a small screen, a single hand-held radio and a set of buttons looking as if they were ripped off an old video game controller.
The whole of the ship creaked as we moved through it, Miles happily humming to himself as he walked. His little tour ended at the cockpit, the pirate spinning a wide vault-door handle and leading us inside.
The walls winked at us as we entered, copper glittering from where it lay in the walls and ceiling. Wires of all shapes and sizes crawled from every corner of the room, converging behind a giant circular desk. Miles slipped off his theatrical coat and gloves, tossing them both to one side as he began his launching sequence. The desk throbbed and hummed as Miles began flipping switches and spinning handles, the ship around us now brimming with life. He moved effortlessly, the ship responding to his free, calloused fingertips.
The ship gave a massive shudder and the girls jumped, Olyvia flinching a moment or two from a sound I could barely hear. “What’s happening?” Layla asked, panic rising in her voice as the noise of the ship grew. “What’s that noise?”
“We’re getting ready to take off,” I shouted over the sound of a massive motor.
“Take off?!” she shouted. I nodded, holding on to the edge of the desk. The ship heaved, throwing Layla into the steady torso of her protector. “Aren’t we underground?!”
Miles flipped another switch, bringing several screens around us to life. Each monitor displayed a different set of stats, and Miles made a show of checking every single one as we rose through the air.
“There’s a hatch at the top of the garage,” he answered, watching the screens. “I’ve let the operators know we’re heading out, and they’re opening it up now.”
“But I didn’t see any hatch!!”
“It’s disguised by Fae magic, just like the garage!” Miles yelled back, hauling on an old train lever. “No one can see it unless the Fae drop the illusion!”
The ship gave a final roar. Layla squealed and covered her ears while the she-wolf flinched a second time. Miles smiled and let out a short breath as the noise lowered to a dull roar, leaning away from his console. “That’s it,” he said, “we’re in the air.” Miles turned to look at Olyvia, leaned his elbows on the desk and flashed his Cheshire-cat smile. “So. What kind of trouble are the three of you in?”
“Who said anything about trouble?” I asked.
“I did,” Olyvia answered, glancing at me. “I told him we needed help getting away from someone on the ground.”
“We’re searching for a killer,” Layla blurted. “He murdered my father and he’s going to pay.”
“Really?” Miles asked, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. “Do tell.”
“Don’t tell,” I snapped, shooting a look at Layla. She seemed confused and taken aback. I knew Miles too well. If he found out Layla was the half-blood everyone’s been after, he might go back on his word and kidnap her. If he took her to Suma before the kid was ready to learn what’s been going on...I didn’t want to think about it.
Miles smirked, waving a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter. Last I heard, you three tracked down the ghost-Fox and gave him a good knock on the ear.”
“Ghost Fox?” Layla asked.
“Afanasiy,” Miles clarified with a nod. “He’s the Fox we all hate but no one can find. A few of my fellow captains have apparently worked for him, but they all mysteriously disappear afterwards.”
“You mean...Afanasiy...killed them?”
“No, we’re pretty sure he took them all on a picnic with dinner and drinks.” He leaned back and gave her a sarcastically disapproving look. “Why do you think we all hate him?”
“And you don’t go looking for them?” Layla asked, unfazed.
Miles shrugged. “Why? Survival of the fittest, not survival of the friendly.”
Layla sputtered in outrage, but the she-wolf had enough. Olyvia gripped the kid’s shoulder and they exchanged significant looks before Layla grumpily pressed her lips together. I can only imagine what that mental conversation sounded like.
“Thanks for doing this, Miles,” Olyvia said over Layla’s imposed silence. “We’re grateful.”
“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” Miles responded, crossing his arms with a single shoulder shrug. “You’ve still got to pay me.”
“First we need to know where you’re taking us,” I said. “Then we’ll know what our bill is.”
Miles turned his green cat-eyes on me. We studied each other for a moment, the pirate trying and failing to get a read on me. He eventually broke off with a chuckling smile, giving up.
“Olyvia said you three need sanctuary,” he said. “I know a place, but we have to get out of the States first.”
“Where is it?” Olyvia asked.
“Out in France.”
Olyvia bristled. “Where?”
“Relax, Sargent stick,” he snorted. “It’s a hospital.”
“A hospital?” Layla asked, finally speaking again. “That’s what you’re counting as a sanctuary?”
“It’s The Hospital,” Miles responded, not acknowledging Layla. “You know, the one the Keepers avoid because it’s bad form to show up unannounced?”
“I’ve heard of it,” Olyvia snorted. “But I’ve never been.”
“I have,” I volunteered, exchanging a glance with the she-wolf. “It lives up to the hype.”
Hell, I’ve been there once or twice before. It’s not a bad place. The walls are inundated with the oldest kind of magic; emotion. It’s considered a sanctuary because no physical violence can be used against another being once inside. Even considering violence shuts down your nervous system until you stop willing harm on someone else.
With that in mind, it would be a decent place to catch our breath.
“That’s a generous journey for you to make, considering,” I commented, raising an eyebrow. “Why the haul?”
Miles shrugged. “For the trio that managed to muss up Afanasiy’s face, I’d do a whole lot. He’s caused a lot of problems for me and mine, but it’s not my MO to track down reclusive psychopaths.” He shifted his gaze over to Olyvia. “Plus I always pay back my favors.”
Olyvia made a small show of blowing it off, redirecting the conversation. “So, a trip to a private hospital overseas. What kind of story will buy us that?”
“You tell me,” he answered. “Your story isn't really up for sale, she-wolf, as I already know most of it and I’m returning a favor. I’d ask the tweenie,” he said, with a glance at Layla, “but I can already tell her story won’t fill the tank, much less get us overseas. And she doesn’t exactly scream ‘storyteller’ anyway.”
Layla began to protest, but was quickly shut down by Olyvia. Good.
“So you want a story from me,” I finished, drawing his attention.
“It’s only fair,” Miles answered. “Judging by the trampy ringmaster appearance, I can tell you’ve got something good.”
“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Olyvia said, giving me a smirk. Taking Layla by the shoulders and steering her towards the door, she glanced back at Miles. “Got a spot to rest in this place?”
“Left out the main door, straight, right, left, left, right, straight, third door on your...” he hesitated, moving his finger as he mentally counted doors. “...left.”
With a slight roll of her eyes, Olyvia proceeded to push Layla out the door, leaving Miles and I alone in the cockpit. I sat cross-legged on the floor, drumming up a good story to tell him.
Luckily, Miles’ rules of payment were simple. The better the story, the better the service. It didn’t have to be true. It just had to be good.
“Alright,” I sighed as I settled, “here’s the story of how I met Suma.”